Idée Fixe
by AJarOfDirt
Summary: Eowyn feels alone in the world and only one person seems to understand her plight, but Grima's obsession for her is nothing but unhealthy.


**Idée Fixe**

Characters © J. R. R. Tolkien and the song, which is called _Buddha for Mary_, is © 30 Seconds to Mars.

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The air was unnaturally cold for the season and the sun was nowhere to be seen across the vast, grey sky. Clouds enveloped the scene, but it was not due to forecast weather. The dreary billows seemed to have been dampening everything in days of late, despite the absence of rain. A smell hung over the plains, but it was not anything the nasal cavity could tell; it was the stench of despair and it flooded the minds of all the residents on the lone hill that stood up above the valleys.

A tall, blonde figure of a noblewoman in white stood before an immense hall, her back towards it as she gazed longingly across the grasslands and yellow pastures. The mountains that lined the far side of the fields were beautiful and majestic, but their glorious air never reached the city she lived in. It was as though the lone hill was doomed to desolation. She shivered as she looked out at the young children, not running around or playing happily with the animals their families reared, but sombrely helping their parents with cattle and goods for sale. None of them wore smiles and it caused her deep blue eyes to sparkle with the slight hint of tears.

Forlornly, Eowyn made her way into the Golden Hall of Meduseld, her body shaking of not only the chilly wind, but sorrow. So much fear hung over Edoras, which was supposed to be the capital city of her country. But for so long, it had been corrupted. The King's mind had been sabotaged, but nobody could stand up to defend him. The law forbade far too much and the King was the main legislator.

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror of her private chambers, Eowyn desolately broke into tears. She had been looking at the same face for much too long – a face, she felt, that could not make a difference in Rohan, no matter what she did. She felt completely powerless and it was something she absolutely detested. A fair, capable lady she was, but she no longer saw that in her. All she discerned when she looked in the mirror was a countenance of fear, of helplessness and perhaps most prominently, of weakness. Eowyn saw no potential in herself now that her only family was slipping away. Her brother, Eomer, spent more time fighting wars than being a caring relative and her uncle, King Theoden, had a damaged mind that she knew of no counter against.

Eowyn slowly sunk in her bed, pulling the bed clothes up over her head. She had no idea of a shadowy figure outside her room, watching her every move.

xxx

_A simple fear to wash you away_  
_An open mind cancelled it today_  
_A silent song that's in your words_  
_A different taste that's in your mind_  
_This is the life on mars_

xxx xxx

Frostiness and shattered dreams are what I see in her eyes, those beautiful blue orbs that suck you in until you are in too deep and eventually drown in the profundity of them. I have gotten lost in them before, even though she never stares at me. All I need is a few seconds of a glare, which she gives quite frequently. She is so fair, but so cold. Warmth needs to find its way back into her life and I feel I can grant her with just what she needs.

_Mary was a different girl_  
_Had a thing for astronauts_  
_Mary was the type of girl_  
_She always liked to play a lot_

I remember the first time I laid eyes on her. She was as perfect as she is now. Only now she is a different picture of flawlessness; broken, but together in a way. When I first took up the post of the King's advisor, she abhorred me. But now, I _know_ she thinks differently; she must. I feel that her eyes no longer hold that degree of disgust she once had for my unkempt hair and my unwashed features. She cares for me now; she identifies with me and...accepts me.

For as long as I have been in contact with her, I have come to a conclusion that she likes adventure. She likes to be surprised and she is a pure fighter. She is not like other ladies of the court, which is probably what drew me in, besides those unfathomable, sea-blue eyes. Her taste in men should be no different to her interests in sword-fighting, the art of battle and her rough-and-ready stature. She would want a husband that looked out for her well-being but is as smart as she; and is also tough enough to fight whenever necessary. She would not want the simpletons that litter Edoras' grounds, they are not her fit. The soldiers of the Golden Hall do not have enough brains to sort through their old letters. What she needs is a person like me. I have just the right balance for her to be comfortable, for her to be safe.

_Mary was a holy girl_  
_Father wet her appetite_  
_Mary was the type of girl_  
_She always liked to fall apart_

She has been broken into pieces one too many times, but I can fix it. I can make it better; I can make her feel again. For too long, she has sat in the darkness. For too long have her fears haunted her and for too long have her thirsts not been quenched. She needs a renewal. She needs me. Nobody else understands her, not the way I do. I _know_ her fears. I _know_ what she is running from. I _know_ her mind.

She does not need that brother of hers. Eomer does not understand her. If he did, he would not be off to war so much. If he had an ounce of thought, an ounce of sympathy for his sister, he would not leave her here alone. If he only spent a fraction of his time comprehending what she apprehends, he would know better than to depart her for even a second. She loves him and cares for him too much though. She longs for him to return to her, when in her mind, she _knows_ he cannot aid in what she most desperately needs help with. He does not deserve her when he does not even take the time to get to know her, to learn her inside out.

_Tell me, did you see her face_  
_Tell me, did you smell her taste_  
_Tell me, what's the difference_  
_Don't they all just look the same inside?_  
_Buddha for Mary_  
_Here it comes_

She is different to me. Her confidence in her words always strikes me as something beautiful. Her inner strength is presented when she holds her head up high, despite being wrong. Her self-esteem intrigues me. Not many women in her position should be so defiant, but she just is. It is what makes her so special to me.

She works well with the horses and does so regularly, so she always smells of fresh leather and grass, rather than the vibrant, overpowering soaps that ladies of the court normally use. She improvises most of her activities, being mostly self-taught. Nobody was around to watch her fall and pick herself back up. I learnt from the King that her parents died when she was still very young, the poor thing. She had always needed to be so independent, especially since her brother often deserts her for his own glory and pleasures.

_Mary was an acrobat_  
_But still she couldn't seem to breathe_  
_Mary was becoming everything she didn't want to be_

That was long ago, or at least, it felt like it was a very long time. After awhile, her contentment slowly diminished as she was increasingly desirable for attention, for proof that her existence meant more to a man than just doing deeds such as finding food and bedding for when soldiers return from war and having children. Yes, I distinguish her deepest secrets and needs. I can see them glimmer through her eyes. It is such a pity that nobody else seems to be able to see what she is so poorly trying to hide.

She does not want to be a simple, forgotten Lady of Rohan, as were other ladies of the noble court. She wants a greater life that not many men can provide, but I know I can. I am so far the only man who is smart enough to decipher the clues she would leave behind in her daily performance. She does not want to be kept in a cage for the rest of her life like an injured animal who cannot decide for itself whether to return to the outside world, or to remain as it is – helpless and incapable.

_Mary would hallucinate_  
_And see the sky upon the wall_  
_Mary was the type of girl_  
_She always liked to fly_

Her dreams consist of riding off to war by her brother's side, of happy summer afternoons in the Hall gardens, of dancing with flowers in her hair like a carefree child and of defending her country for what it is worth. She is such a sturdy but fragile being. She does not look her true, dexterous self, for her frame is thin and frail. However, no one would object that she, physically and psychologically, is sacrosanct. It seems very contradictory to say, but then again, _she_ is the contradiction that I cannot live without.

_Tell me, did you see her face_  
_Tell me, did you smell her taste_  
_Tell me, what's the difference_  
_Don't they all just look the same inside?_  
_Buddha for Mary_  
_Here it comes_

My dreams of her at night are not always to be talked about. I admit that sometimes, the things that I dream would be considered vile, disgusting and perverse. I do not know why people would think so. I think dreams that hold so much truth in them, so much emotion, are beautiful thoughts and feelings a person experiences.

_Buddha for Mary_  
_Here it comes_

I sometimes do not only dream at night. The psyche has no boundaries, after all, thus daydreaming is what I sometimes resort to whenever I see her. She is constantly in my brain, making me wrack is so hard that I acquire a migraine. But I would hurt for her. I would do 'most anything for her because she is the only one that I absolutely feel I love and care for to such a profound, sensitive, connective and sensual degree. The caverns of my heart have been filled by her presence around me...

_This is the life on mars_

xxx

_He said, "Can you hear me, are you sleeping?"_  
_She said, "Will you rape me now?"_

Snake was what she called me, all because I tried to help her through her grief with Theodred's death. Did she not understand that it pains me to see her in such a severe state? Those blue eyes have cried a tear too many. I was only trying to ease her ache and relieve her of her melancholy. She does not deserve anymore of that, for she had received an amount that can last her several lifetimes. Nobody should feel this bitter and alone, especially not a person as fair as Eowyn.

_He said, "Leave the politics to mad men."_  
_She said, "I believe your lies."_

For a brief moment, it was as though she desired me as much as I desired her. It is not only bodily, but of the mind and the spirit as well. It was a whole-hearted love that I felt emit from her, but was there pity in the mixture? I do not shun her pity. I would do so for any other man or woman who dares cross me, but never her; never Eowyn. I consider whatever word that flows from her mouth seraphic to the ears and paramount to everything else. She is my angel.

_He said, "There's a paradise beneath me."_  
_She said, "Am I supposed to bleed?"_

She questions me. She does not need to say anything to do so. I can see it in those tragic, glazed-over eyes of hers. What do you have that can possibly make any difference in the life that I currently lead, she asks. _What can you do that changes anything, that brings things back to the way they were before any of this tragedy struck the noble Hall? Before the King lost his mind, before my brother was banished, before my cousin died?_

I am afraid I do not have the answer, my child. I can only nurse your wounds and help them heal, I cannot turn back time.

_He said, "You better pray to Jesus."_  
_She said, "I don't believe in God."_

"Your words are poison." (1)

Those four words hurt more than anything anybody could have alleged or done to me. I would not feel such pain were those words leaving the mouths of the ignorant soldiers, or were those the words of the disgusted court ladies who do nothing but serve their men blindly. But from my angel that is Eowyn...they strangely stab me deep in the heart. They make me want to cut my tongue out so I would never say anything 'poisonous' to her ever again.

xxx

_Mary was a different girl_  
_Had a thing for astronauts_  
_Mary was the type of girl_  
_She always liked to play a lot_  
_Mary was a holy girl_  
_Father wet her appetite_  
_Mary was the type of girl_  
_She always liked to fall apart_

xxx xxx

Eowyn rushed out of the Golden Hall, far more shaken than she had ever been. The tears of anguish had stopped flowing, they were now replaced by ones of anger and fear. The words Grima said to her - about being alone and speaking to the darkness - the assumptions he made, they were all eerily accurate and profound. For a fraction of a second, she had believed his lies, she had found it in herself to feel for the witless worm. But no sooner did she do so that she re-entered her regular consciousness. The Wormtongue had poisoned the mind of the King – her uncle. He had gotten her brother exiled from the kingdom and to what cause and gain? The back of her mind told her it was to earn time; to earn the time he did not deserve...with her.

Staring out over the barriers that guarded Edoras as a flag from one of the posts had ripped off its stand and flown through the wind, Eowyn noticed three horses passing through the gates, one white, one grey and one a chestnut-brown. She could not help but linger her gaze on the company – they were headed for the Golden Hall. Her heart was very suddenly filled with hope, but simultaneously, a fear flooded her being. Eowyn retreated to her chambers once again as the company rode further up the hill to Meduseld.

xxx

_A simple fear to wash you away_  
_An open mind cancelled it today_

xxx xxx xxx

**Author's Notes**

Grima is a _**sick and obsessed**_ man. That is all I can really say about him, especially in this fanfiction. It is really personified and it personally scared me out of my wits writing it. Especially when I envisioned Brad Dourif (possibly one of the scariest men I have ever seen) act it out in my head. I have an overactive imagination for these sorts of things. Grima, although a small role, intrigues me quite deeply, and after watching how Brad splendidly played him in two of the _Lord of the Rings_ films, the embodiment of the character solidified Grima's place in my memory.

I am somehow able to sympathise with Grima, which is probably why I made him seem so helpless and dependent on Eowyn and her love and acceptance of him in this story. But his character in general, at least to me, is a very reliant one and he does not really have a true mind of his own to think clearly because he has been corrupted by Saruman's malice for so long. After Saruman promises Grima Eowyn, he just thinks he can own her so freely because it is part of something his master has put on his platter.

I myself admit that I have my own insalubrious infatuation with the song, _Buddha for Mary_, which I felt fit Grima's story with Eowyn to a T. To me, the song in itself is quite perverse and weird, but very characteristic. It is a brilliant one and one of my favourites from the self-titled 30 Seconds to Mars album.

_Edit on December 23rd, 2007_: I have made minor changes in accordance to what my reviewers have said. Very minor ones, like re-phrasing Eowyn's introduction and dealing with the ever-so-annoying POV differences. They were things that annoyed me immensely too, to be honest, so changing them was probably for the best.

(1) – taken from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers transcription


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